


Getting Better (otherwise)

by RobinReaper



Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King, Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Character Swap, Amnesia, Angst, Crossover, Crossover Pairings, Derry (Stephen King), Falling In Love, Friends to Lovers, Head Injury, Hospitals, Hurt/Comfort, Identity Issues, Love Confessions, M/M, Memory Loss, Mike Is Richie, Mind Flayer Happened, Mindfuck, Or Richie Is Mike, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Pennywise happened, Questioning Reality, Rarepair, Recovery, Shit gets complicated, Sort Of, Strangers to Friends to Lovers, Takes place after It chapter 1 and ST season 3, The Quarry, or - Freeform, or did it?
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-12
Updated: 2020-03-06
Packaged: 2021-02-27 19:54:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,215
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22671346
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RobinReaper/pseuds/RobinReaper
Summary: Mike’s head was spinning again. Everything was hazy and confusing.He knew who he was. He was Mike Wheeler. He remembered himself, he remembered his friends, his family, the Upside Down, his life.What was happening? What the hell was this boy on about?The expression on the boy’s face was desperate and determined.“A week and a half ago, we were messing around and diving at the quarry with our friends and you stumbled off the ledge and hit your head on the way down. You died twice that day, but you survived. Your name is Richie Tozier and I’m your best friend, Eddie Kaspbrak, and I love you.”
Relationships: Eddie Kaspbrak/Mike Wheeler, Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier, Mike Wheeler & The Losers Club, Mike Wheeler/Eleven | Jane Hopper (mentioned), The Losers Club & Richie Tozier, The Party & Mike Wheeler
Comments: 27
Kudos: 75





	1. Chapter 1

“… asshole! Don’t you dare…”

“…help him! Somebody, please!”

“… so much blood…”

“…please, Rich…”

“…he going to die?! We need...”

“…come on, man…” 

“…ambulance…here, over here!...”

“…hospital… I’ll be there… don’t let him…”

“… seizure! Keep the …”

“…losing him, get…”

“…surgery…”

“… one more, clear!”

…

“I love you, asshole! Don’t you dare leave me.”

…

_I love you_

_I love you_

_I love you_

…

Mike felt heavy.

Like his bones were full of lead, his stomach full of rocks, his head full of… something heavier.

Everything was slow and hazy.

He couldn’t move his limbs, but his mind was too… swimmy to worry about it. Who needed movable limbs anyway, hmmm?

Limbs. What a weird word.

He could feel something soft under him. Something warm wrapped around him. His arms were cool, but his hand was hot. Held tightly. Someone was holding him.

It felt nice.

_I love you_

He remembered a voice.

He hadn’t recognised it, but it was warm and comforting, even with the sad desperation behind it. He hoped whoever it was was okay. He didn’t like that they were sad.

Maybe they were the one holding his hand?

But why would a stranger hold his hand?

Why would a stranger love him?

Did Mike really care?

It felt good to hold hands. It felt good to be loved.

Maybe the hand belonged to someone else though. Like El or Will.

El or Will. Yeah, it might be one of them.

Maybe they were both here.

Mike desperately wanted to see them. Make sure they were okay.

Were they okay?

Wait, was he okay?

God, he’d only just noticed the beeping sound.

His head didn’t just feel heavy anymore, it was starting to ache too. It hurt. Everything hurt and felt uncomfortable.

Was he in a hospital? Had something bad happened? Was it Upside Down related? Were El and Will okay?! Lucas, Max, Dustin? Nancy, Jonathan? Steve?

The beeping picked up pace a bit and Mike flexed his fingers instinctively.

He needed to open his eyes.

He managed to blink them open, just for a second, but the room was too bright.

He twitched his fingers again so that they clasped back at the hand that was holding his.

“… hey, shhhh, it’s okay, you’re okay.”

The voice, the nice one from before, filtered through to Mike over the beating of the heartrate monitor. The thumb of the hand holding his was rubbing small, slow circles into his skin. Mike took in a shaky breath, past the ache of pain and panic he was feeling, focusing on the rhythm the thumb made.

In and out, round and round.

Once the beeping had steadied out for the moment, Mike gave opening his eyes another try. He blinked, until his vision adjusted.

“We couldn’t find your glasses in the quarry after… you know, so, sorry that you can’t see shit. Bill, Mike and Ben have gone back several times to see if they can find them, but they could be anywhere at this point. They were careful when they were looking, didn’t go near the cliff or anything, so don’t worry. Do you need anything? Water? Should I call a nurse?”

Mike’s head was spinning slightly.

Glasses? He didn’t need glasses. His eyes flicked around the room unsteadily at first, but... yeah, he could definitely see and focus on things. What was going on?

He looked towards the voice and started trying to ask them this, but his throat felt like sandpaper and all that came out was a scratchy wheeze that hurt his chest.

“Oh jees, water it is then. Hang on a sec.”

The voice belonged to a boy. He was sat beside the hospital bed, leaning forward a little bit as though he were moments away from just climbing up onto the bed to join Mike. He had brown hair that looked soft to touch and warm, dark brown eyes, with a cute nose and a cuter mouth. Actually, cute was a pretty accurate description for the whole boy. And not even in a gay way, just, like, objectively. Mike bet that if you looked up cute in the dictionary, this guy’s face would be smiling up at you from the pages.

Mike felt the hand in his start to slip away as the boy made to grab a glass of water off a side table, but Mike made a noise of protest and gripped the hand tighter. The boy snapped back to look at him, momentarily startled and worried, but whatever he saw in Mike’s face made his features smooth out into an expression so fond, Mike felt his worry temporarily melt away.

Instead of leaving him completely, the boy shuffled around and reached over to the side table with his unoccupied hand, stretching a little, but snagging it easily without spilling it. The glass had a plastic straw and the boy’s eyebrows furrowed in concentration as he tried to line the end up with Mike’s mouth, eventually succeeding so Mike could purse his lips around it.

It was a strange feeling to suck the water through the straw. The skin around his scalp felt tight and his whole head ached oddly with the action, something weird zinging through the nerves around his face at the tension, disappearing into numbness at the back of his head. It felt odd, but Mike’s thirst outweighed his discomfort for the moment.

Mike pushed the straw out of his mouth when he had had his fill and the boy set the glass carefully back on the side, before scooting closer to the bed.

“Thank you,” Mike said, hoarsely.

The boy gave him a secret smile, one that softly curled at his lips like he was trying his best not to let it grow too wide.

“You’re welcome, asshole.”

They sat, just looking at each other for a moment. Mike attempted to return the boy’s smile, but it came out weak and he winced when the action set off the nerves around his face again.

The boy’s expression shuttered, caught in a memory. His face twisted into sadness.

“I really thought I was gonna lose you for a moment there – we all did. You… you died. Twice. For, like, two or three minutes, each time. You stopped breathing and there was so much blood everywhere. They brought you back to life before they put you in the ambulance and the nurse told us later that they had to do it again during the surgery, and… God…” 

The boy stops for a moment to breath, placing his other hand on top of Mike’s to cover his completely. Mike notices that they’re shaking. He’s so confused right now, his brain spinning and unfurling like a yoyo, jumping to make sense of this boy’s words. Something’s not right here. Some wires are crossed, but Mike doesn’t know which. He lets him continue, only capable of staring at him dumbly, hanging on to every syllable in a daze.

“I’ve never been so scared in my life. Not even with It, and the germs or the leper. Nearly losing you, … it put a lot of things in perspective for me. Some things I thought I could ignore, … I just can’t anymore. When you were bleeding out… and all I could do was hold you, and hope that Bill and Mike could get to a phone and get help in time, … I made a promise to myself… that if you lived, I wouldn’t hold back. I wouldn’t be a coward anymore. Because life’s short and it would fucking suck without you. You mean so much to me, and well… what I’m trying to say is,

"I’m in love with you.”

The boy sniffled slightly and looked up, catching Mike’s gaze and holding it as warmly as he did his hand.

“I love you, Richie Tozier.”

_I love you_

_I love you_

_I love you_

Richie Tozier?

Mike’s voice comes out weak, but he strains desperately to speak as clearly as possible so that this boy can understand him. “I’m so sorry, but, I think there’s been a mistake… I don’t know who you are.”

A defensive wall slams down over the boy’s face and his jaw clenches with a mix of hurt and anger, before it all crumbles away into a look of resigned disappointment. “You don’t have to be an asshole, Rich. Nothing has to change. You’re my best friend and I just wanted you to know, that’s all.”

The boy tried to remove both of his hands from their pile, but Mike tightened his grip on the one he was holding, refusing to let go. That wasn’t what he meant at all. He hadn’t wanted to upset him. 

The beeping of the machine was starting to speed up again in Mike’s mounting panic.

“No, no, that’s not what I meant … I don’t know who this Richie-guy is, but they’re very lucky to have you. You’re really nice. I just have no idea who either of you are or what you’re talking about… My name’s Mike… Mike Wheeler.”

The boy stared stiffly at him, neither one of them moving a muscle. Mike tried to convey with his eyes that he wasn’t lying to this poor guy. He just wanted to know what the hell was going on and then hopefully see if his friends were all alive and alright.

Minutes seemed to pass and both boys remained unmoving.

Then, slowly, a look of pure horror dawned on the boy’s face, his mouth open, quivering, and his eyes wide and getting shiny with unshed tears.

“Oh, no, … oh God, … you genuinely believe that, don’t you?... You’re not lying… What the fuck. What the actual fuck. You don’t remember me? You don’t remember _you_? This is so bad. This is so, so bad…”

Mike’s head was spinning again. Everything was hazy and confusing.

Of course, he believed that. He knew who he was. He was Mike Wheeler. He remembered himself, he remembered his friends, his family, the Upside Down, his life.

What was happening? What the hell was this boy on about?

He must have made some kind of noise of distress out loud, because the boy leant forward close again and put his other hand back on top of Mike’s, clasping them all together tighter than before. It was almost painful, but Mike found it mildly comforting, anchoring.

The expression on the boy’s face was desperate and determined.

“A week and a half ago, we were messing around and diving at the quarry with our friends and you stumbled off the ledge accidently and hit your head on the way down. You died twice that day, but you survived. Your name is Richie Tozier and I’m your best friend, Eddie Kaspbrak, and I love you.”

Mike passed out.

_I love you_


	2. Chapter 2

When Mike woke up again, the boy was gone.

He felt surprisingly put out when he discovered this.

Eddie.

Eddie Kaspbrak.

The nurse who came in to check Mike’s bandages and IV had tutted about Eddie not informing a member of staff sooner when

Mike had been awake the previous day. He had only gone and got someone after Mike was out cold, fearing it was because of internal bleeding or infection or a long list of other possibilities that he had rattled off to a startled intern at the desk down the hall. The nurse spoke a lot about how Eddie had stayed by his side for as long as possible, even managing to pester her into allowing him to stay twenty minutes beyond visiting hours.

She helped Mike have a drink of water and smiled at him kindly as she headed to the door, pointing out a scribbled note that had been left for him on the side table before she left to go get the doctor.

_Richie (Or Mike?? If that’s what you’re comfortable with?),_

_Sorry I freaked you out. I was freaked out too._

_I just want you to know that I’m here for you, and so are all the other Losers._

_I’ll talk to you more tomorrow. Don’t worry, we’ll get this sorted out and you’ll be good as new in no time._

_Also don’t die while I’m gone, Trashmouth._

_Love Eddie x_

The final line of the note was written neater than the rest, like Eddie had thought more carefully about writing his love down on paper and including the small kiss at the bottom. Mike felt his cheeks heat up slightly at the thought and the sweet sentiment in the note.

This boy, this random stranger who believed so strongly that he loved Mike, or who he thought Mike was.

Mike didn’t know how to feel about the whole thing.

Happy that someone so nice seemed to have such strong feelings for him? Repulsed that those feelings were coming from another boy, something he’d always been bullied for by Troy and his friends? Guilty that he didn’t deserve this love because it was actually intended for someone else? Concern that this boy might be crazy for mistaking Mike for his friend? Like, how similar could they really be for Eddie to believe so strongly that Mike was this Richie Tozier guy?

Mike ran his finger over the bottom line absentmindedly before putting it back on the side table.

A knock sounded on the door and Mike perked up, part of him hoping that Eddie was back already, but it was only the nurse again, followed close behind by a doctor.

“Ah, Mr Tozier, you’re awake. How are you feeling, son?”

The doctor, Dr Ford as his nametag proclaimed, had picked up the chart attached to the end of Mike’s bed and was scanning through it quickly. The nurse busied herself with opening the blinds over the window before exiting the room, throwing Mike a reassuring smile over her shoulder.

A slow ache that was starting to become familiar grew within Mike’s head.

“Sir, I don’t know what’s going on, but I’m not a Tozier. My name is Mike Wheeler. I don’t know why people keep calling me that, has there been a mix up with the forms or something?”

The doctor looked up at him sharply, his gaze assessing.

“Mike Wheeler?”

“Yes! I’m Michael Wheeler, Mike for short,” he replied. He was starting to get irritated. Mike had been patient with Eddie, the boy had clearly had a difficult time recently worrying about his friend, but this was a doctor in a hospital, he should be able to tell his patients apart.

Dr Ford didn’t outwardly react, just hummed and picked a pen out of his breast pocket. He flipped to a blank sheet of paper on the clipboard before starting to jot some things down.

“Do you know where you are, Mike?”

Mike was apprehensive. The doctor had said his name, so perhaps he was taking Mike seriously, but the question itself was kind of condescending. Of course, Mike knew where he was, right? 

“Mike?”

“Oh, sorry, umm, the hospital… in Hawkins, Indiana. Unless I had to be moved to a bigger hospital because of my head injury? In which case I guess I could be anywhere.”

Another hum and the sound of the pen scratching across the paper. It was already starting to grate on Mike’s nerves, but he tried to ignore it.

The doctor didn’t tell Mike if he was right or not, but he continued to ask him questions, like how old he was, when was his birthday, who was the president and so on. Mike answered them all honestly and tried not to get too frustrated.

Perhaps this was routine for head trauma patients, making sure they didn’t have amnesia or other lasting issues. Mike was pretty sure he was okay on that front. He was responding pretty quickly and didn’t think he had forgotten anything.

“Okay, and your friends and family’s names?”

“My mom and dad are Karen and Ted Wheeler. I have two sisters, Nancy’s a bit older than me and Holly’s the youngest. My friends are named Lucas, Will, Dustin, Max and El. I guess Steve counts as my friend too, but don’t tell him that.”

Dr Ford also asked for brief descriptions of each of the people Mike mentioned, both appearance and personality. This seemed like a lot of unnecessary detail for a brief memory test, but he complied, nonetheless.

“And finally, what do you remember of the accident, Mike?”

Now that was a tough question. What did he remember?

He couldn’t think of anything dangerous he’d done recently to warrant such a painful head injury.

By recently, he meant in the last month, as before that there was the whole fiasco with Starcourt Mall and the Russians and the MindFlayer, but things had been fairly safe since then. No one had been trying to infiltrate top secret bases, nor had they been fighting any otherworldly monsters who were out for revenge.

Everyone’s main concern had been helping one another deal with the various losses they’d all sustained on that awful night. Hopper’s loss hit everyone hard, and Mike knew Max was torn up about Billy, even though he had been such a dick to her most of the time. There were a couple of unexpected losses too. The MindFlayer had taken many people from all over Hawkins. Theo, the son of a family friend who had lived next door to them for forever, was gone. As was the man who had delivered the post to their neighbourhood every morning and Mike’s 8th grade English teacher and many others that wouldn’t be seen around Hawkins again.

El had moved in with the Byers who had welcomed her with open arms. She had told Mike that she wanted to put their relationship ‘on a break’ - a phrase Mike was certain Max was responsible for - and that she needed some time to get to know her new family better and learn more about the world in general.

Mike understood. It was a difficult time for them all, but El especially. She had been through so much in her life so far, he could understand why she would want to take a moment just to breath and recuperate.

He felt he probably should do the same. He had been neglecting his other friends while he was caught up in the excitement of dating El, and he wanted to make up for that. He made sure to try and spend equal quality time with all his friends, apologising profusely to Dustin and Will, as well as putting more effort into actually befriending Max.

The Party had spent a lot of time together over the last month, hanging out at the park, the arcade, the recently reopened Hawk Cinema or one of their houses.

None of that had been particularly dangerous.

None of that could have caused Mike’s head injury.

He strained to recall the last thing he could remember before waking up in the hospital, but his memories just started to fall away from him into a fuzzy haze. He knew he went to bed on a Thursday evening and he knew he woke up and had some sort of plans the next day, but he couldn’t for the life of him remember what those plans were, with who or whether he actually got around to fulfilling those plans.

God, his head hurt.

And come to think of it, even the memories he did have of the summer were starting to fade in and out of focus and mix around in his mind, like a weird memory dyslexia.

When had they gone to the pool? Last week? Or had they hung out in Lucas’ back yard?

Was that before or after they went to the diner and Will had laughed so hard at a joke Dustin made that milkshake had come out of his nose? Or had that been Max laughing?

Had they all visited Steve and Robin at the Family Video store on Wednesday?

Had Mike gone to the quarry at some point on Friday?

Because Eddie had said that he did, only… that wasn’t him, that was someone else, wasn’t it?

Why would Mike go back to the quarry after what had happened with Troy the last time he was there?

Mike felt his stomach drop. He could remember the fall like it was yesterday.

Was it yesterday? A more recent memory?

Or an old trauma that he couldn’t forget?

What the _fuck_ was wrong with him?

Why was thinking so difficult?

“-ike? Mike? Are you okay there, son?”

Mike blinked and snapped back into the present.

Dr Ford was looking at him, concerned, over the top of the clipboard.

Mike’s voice was shaky and frail when he tried to use it again.

“Sorry, sir,… I got a bit… lost, umm,… I can’t remember the accident, I don’t think.”

The doctor gave one last, long hum, jotting down another line or two. Mike was too tired all of a sudden to be grouchy about it.

He just wanted to go back to sleep.

“Alright, Mike, thank you for answering all my questions. I’m going to go talk to your mother and father, give them some updates, and then we’ll all come in and have a chat together about how to go forward with your recovery. How does that sound?”

Mike found that all he could do was nod and grunt noncommittally, slumping tiredly back into his pillows more fully, as the doctor turned on his heel and left him alone with his muddied thoughts.

He still didn’t know what was happening, but his parents would help him sort it all out after their talk with Dr Ford.

In a couple of months, Mike bet that this whole disaster would be a distant memory. He would be fine and laughing off the confusion with all his friends.

Lucas, Dustin, Eddie, Bill… 

Wait, no, that wasn’t quite right…

El and Will, that was it.

Lucas, Dustin, El and Will,… and Mike too.

No, hang on again, _he_ was Mike… He meant the other M. He meant … Max, yeah.

The Lose- _the Party_ , they were the Party.

Ow, why was this so complicated?

Maybe his head would be clearer after a nap.

Yeah, that should help…

Mike found himself dozing off back to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm going to try to upload weekly, but apologies in advance if that flops, I'm a mess :)


	3. Chapter 3

“Come on, Sweetie.”

Mike grumbled.

Someone was calling him, trying to get him up and awake, and he wasn’t having it.

He’d been having the nicest dream. Brown eyes and soft, short hair. A secret smile just for him. Fingers curling through his own. It was light and happy, and he wanted to stay there.

“Wakey wakey, that’s it.”

There was a hand on his forearm, gently shaking him to try and get his attention. It reminded Mike of his mother whenever she had to get him up because he had slept in too long on a school day.

“Five more minutes.”

A soft breath of laughter fanned out over his face. It croaked a bit towards the end as though the owner was trying to choke back tears a little.

Furrowing his brow in confusion, Mike slowly blinked his eyes open.

There was a woman stood leaning over him from the side of the bed. She had dark, nearly black, hair that fell in tight curls around her pale face. There were laugh lines around her eyes, but they weren’t crinkled up in joy for the moment. Instead, they seemed sorrowful, but there was a desperate hope blooming on her face as she met his gaze.

Mike’s frown deepened and he flinched away from her touch on his arm.

He ignored the hurt look on the woman’s face as he moved to scan the rest of the hospital room. Dr Ford was stood at the foot of his bed, clipboard still in hand. He looked sort of sterner than before, determined, but there was a sympathetic set to his expression. Another man stood a little ways behind the woman. He was thin and wiry with thick lensed glasses and his hands twisting nervously in front of him, the rest of his body tense, shoulders hunched with deep set worry.

It was an alarming sight to wake up to.

He looked back towards the doctor.

“Sir, what’s going on?”

The two strangers in the room exchanged a saddened glance before staring back at Mike. It was like they were expecting him to know who they were or something. Mike searched for some recognition in his memories, but nothing came up.

“Young man, I’m afraid we have a rather difficult matter to discuss.” Dr Ford paused and motioned for the man and woman to take a seat on the two visitors chairs that were set up beside the bed. “You’re in a hospital in Derry, Maine. The accident you survived caused damage to parts of your brain, and it appears that you have sustained amnesia, forgetting your life as Richard Tozier. Your mind also seems to have created false memories of this Michael Wheeler character to fill in the gaps left in your memories.”

Mike’s head was full of static.

“What-?”

His voice cracked and he cut himself off, not knowing what to say.

Amnesia? False memories?

_Derry, Maine?_

The doctor hadn’t believed him at all when they talked earlier. He’d probably just been playing along the whole time so that he could evaluate just how batshit crazy he thought Mike was.

 _Was_ Mike crazy?

If he had hit his head really hard, it was entirely plausible that he could have amnesia.  
He’d never heard of this whole false memories thing, but that didn’t sound too far fetched given the shit they’d been through with the Upside Down and that time Will was possessed by the Mind Flayer and got all those Now Memories.

But if Mike really did have false memories, then had any of that even happened for him to be able to use the Now Memories to validate the existence of false or Other memories in the first place?

Mike could feel his own blood pounding through his temples.

Dr Ford’s words cut through Mike’s internal freak out.

“I’m sorry, I know this is a lot to take in, son. As for care going forward, the physical healing will be the least of your worries. Amnesia tends to vary from person to person so there’s no telling when or if your memories will ever return. However, I am hopeful that they will, as the things you described to me earlier about your imagined life are very similar to what your friends and family have told me your life is like here. It seems the details have just got scrambled around a bit in the accident. With help from those around you, some prompting here and there may help to jog your memories back into place. So,” the doctor paused and waited for Mike to meet his eyes, staring at him pointedly. “Richie, do you have any questions?”

His head felt too heavy and everything felt like it was somehow going too fast and too slow at the same time.

He wanted to look away from Dr Ford, but if he did that, that would mean having to look at the two strangers to his left. Mike had a sinking feeling that he could guess who they were.

“Ah-are these my parents?”

A broken sob came from the woman and Mike couldn’t stop himself from looking over to her. She had buried her face in her husband’s shoulder, and he held her tight to his side, rubbing a hand up and down her arm soothingly. The man’s own eyes were getting shiny and red and he sniffled a couple of times but held in his emotions in favour of comforting his wife. He looked up at Mike bravely and gave him a weak smile.

“Yeah, buddy, I’m Wentworth, Went, your dad, and this is Margaret, Maggie, your mom.”

The woman managed to pull herself together and move away from Went’s shoulder, turning to Mike too. Her mascara was running slightly and smudged around her eyes.

“I’m so sorry, Sweetie. This must be so confusing for you. We’re here for you, we’ll help you, anything you need, Rich. Your friends are gonna help you too. They’ve been so lovely, visiting as much as possible. Eddie has barely left your side since they admitted you here. We’re all going to help you recover. Whatever you need, Sweetie, anything.”

_I love you._

Eddie!

“I need Eddie.”

Maggie looked disappointed for a split second, but then she perked up, leaning forward eagerly. “Do you remember him? Is that why you want him here? You’re starting to remember him?”

Mike shook his head hastily, wincing at the shock that ran through his nerves at the action. “No, no- sorry- He was here when I woke up… I just… can I talk to him? Is he here?”

Went patted Maggie’s hands where they were clasped tightly in her lap. “Of course you can, bud. He’s been waiting outside for us to finish up in here with the doctor. We can leave you in here to chat alone if you want. I know we probably seem like strangers right now, Rich, but we just want what’s best for you. Come on, Mags,” he addressed his wife, pulling her up to her feet. “Let’s go find the hospital café, give our boy some space for a bit.”

The woman nodded brokenly, giving Mike a longing look, like she wanted to give him a hug but thought better of it for now, before the couple trudged out of the room.

Dr Ford stayed behind for a moment, but he didn’t say anything. Mike refused to look at him as he scribbled more down on the damn clipboard. The doctor sighed when he had finished before placing the forms back in the tray at the end of the bed and walking out the room.

In the silence that followed, the world around Mike felt superficial, like a dream or more likely a nightmare.

Everything he knew could be a lie.

Or perhaps there was still a big mistake somewhere, and Mike really was Mike, and all these other people were wrong.

But the likelihood of that theory was becoming less and less every time Mike woke up.

The door creaked as it cracked open and a familiar brown head of hair ducked through, closing it behind him.

Eddie leant back against the door for a moment, looking at Mike fondly with those kind, warm eyes, and the soft, careful smile.

“Hey.”

Mike promptly burst into tears.

“Oh no.”

Mike’s vision was blurry and scrunched up from the sobs that racked him, but he could just about make out Eddie’s hazy figure hurrying cross the room.

The bed dipped and Eddie was carefully nudging him over so that he could join Mike, sitting beside him. He eased Mike up from the pillows slightly so he could get an arm around his back to hug him close, wary of the bandages Mike had wrapped around his head.

All Mike could do in response was to cry harder and bury his face in Eddie’s chest, curling into him.

“…shhh, it’s alright, it’s okay… you’re gonna be okay… I’ve got you…”

The pressure on Mike’s chest was slowly starting to lighten up, but it took at least ten minutes for him to properly calm down.

Eddie kept up a constant stream of reassurances throughout, until they both petered off into silence.

Mike felt drained, completely empty. 

An expression he’d overheard someone say about Mrs Byers once sprang to mind.

The lights are on but nobody’s home.

Was Mike like that now?

Mike was more like a trespasser. A ghost haunting Richie’s home until he came back. If he came back.

But he definitely wasn’t Richie.

He didn’t feel like Richie.

Or did he? How could he know what it felt to be Richie if he couldn’t remember him?

Ughh, what was real?

He didn’t know anymore.

Eddie’s hand was cool on the back of his neck, tracing random patterns and smoothing down the edge of Mike’s hospital gown when his fingers dipped low enough to touch it. Mike just breathed into Eddie’s shirt slowly.

This was all such a lot and Mike couldn’t begin to comprehend it. He needed a distraction from his own mind.

He sniffled.

“Can you- umm… can you tell me about our friends? Your note said something about Losers?”

Eddie shuffled them slightly, so they were in a more relaxed hug, leaning back against the pile of pillows that had been propping Mike up. Mike scooted down the bed a little so that he could more comfortably rest his head on Eddie’s chest and just listen to his heart beating.

“The Losers Club. That’s what we call ourselves. You, me, Bill Denbrough, Stanley Uris, Ben Hanscom, Mike Hanlon and Beverly Marsh.

“Bill’s the leader, he’s the strongest of us. Well, Mike’s physically the strongest, but Bill’s strong willed. Stubborn and protective. He talks slow sometimes, stutters to get words out, but only ‘cause he got in a car accident when he was really young. What he says is usually important though so it’s worth the wait. He cares so deeply for the people he loves, it always feels like kind of an honour to have his attention, yaknow?”

The description of Bill reminds Mike of El a little; her slow but sure way of talking, the intense and immediate love she has for friends and the fierce way she defends them. He also seems similar to both Mike and Lucas on the stubborn leader front.

“Stan… Stan’s just the best. He’s sarcastic and always acts like he hates everything and everyone, but sometimes this amused little twinkle in his eye breaks through the stone-cold apathy. He loves birds, but only ever lets Bill or Mike go birdwatching with him, ‘cause the rest of us are ‘too damn loud’… What else? Oh! He likes a good argument and proving people wrong, but not particularly in a mean way. He’s the rabbi’s son, so he has to be presentable in public at all times, always polite and precise, so he can really only let loose when he’s with us.”

Mike could definitely relate to the cynical outlook on the world but couldn’t really liken Stan to anyone else he knew. None of the Party were Jewish, nor did they like birds. Maybe Erica though? She could argue like no one’s business.

“Ben is so sweet, a genuinely nice guy. He’s super into history and architecture. Him and Mike spend a lot of time in the library, nerding out over the fancy ancient books they have. Mike’s a charming softy too. He lives and helps out on his Grandfather’s farm just outside of town.

“We met them both through the bullies that hound us all around Derry, Bowers’ Gang. They gave them shit all the time, because Ben’s a little overweight and Mike’s one of the few black kids in Derry.

“Beverly was on their bad side too. Bowers spread a lot of gross rumours around that she was promiscuous, but they were all lies. She’s a spitfire, a total badass, definitely the bravest of us. She has red hair and I’m pretty sure most of the others have crushes on her, mainly Ben and Bill.

“The bullying hasn’t stopped, but it’s sure gotten easier to deal with now that we’re all together. The Losers Club stands up for one another.”

Mike and Ben both seem like mashups of Dustin, Lucas and Will and Bev is a dead ringer for Max. 

The Losers Club actually seems eerily similar to The Party.

All in all, Mike is kinda starting to see what Dr Ford was talking about, with the scrambled details.

Mike tilts his head, looking up at Eddie.

“What about you? What are you like?” he asks softly.

Eddie blinks and a red blush creeps over his face. He stumbles around for a moment for the answer.

“Oh, umm… me? I’m… well, … I’m okay, I think. I like comic books. And running, but that’s fairly new. I, err… I live with just my mom. She’s very protective over me. Always worried I’ll get sick and die or something. Up until a couple of years ago, she had me on a lot of medication, told me I had asthma and allergies, but that was all bullshit. Placebos. Though I misheard and called them gazebos for… longer than I’d care to admit. I’m kind of a germaphobe still. Habit, I guess. I can spout off all sorts of statistics about various diseases.”

Eddie chuckled in a self-deprecating manner.

“Also, I’m sure you’ve noticed but I talk a lot, and quite quickly most of the time. It can be kind of annoying, I know. Sorry.”  
Mike shook his head, but slowly, so he didn’t aggravate anything.

“You’re not annoying, not at all. It’s calming me down a lot actually, listening to you talk,” Mike bit his lip and looked away, across the room to stare at the patch of sky he could see out the window. “Hearing about all of you, it’s helping me sort everything out in my head. I don’t know what’s real anymore, but you seem familiar to me somehow. Safe and trustworthy.”

The boy squeezed his arms around Mike a little tighter and they sat in silence for another few long moments.

“Hey,” Eddie whispered to break it and gain Mike’s attention again. “Wanna hear something else about me?” He kept his voice hushed even though there was no one around to overhear them, like this was just for Mike and not even the air around them was allowed to listen in.

“Yeah,” Mike breathed back.

Eddie smiled.

That smile again. The secret one from his dreams. His soft hair, softer eyes, tender.

“I always feel safe with you too. You’re my favourite person. And you always will be. Then, now and later. Richie or Mike. I love you.”

_I love you._

Mike feels overwhelmed but happy.

So happy.

He feels the sides of his lips quirk up, so he lays his head back over Eddie’s heart to hide the smile in the other boy’s shirt. He wraps his arms around him and just enjoys the feeling of closeness.

The world may be a huge clusterfuck right now, but at least he wasn’t facing it alone.


	4. Chapter 4

It takes Mike until late afternoon five days after waking up the first time to pluck up the courage to ask Eddie the question that’s been burning his mind.

Things have been stilted and a little awkward with his parents. He’s been trying as hard as he can, searching for memories of them but no luck so far. They visit him frequently throughout the day and Mike is slowly getting familiar with them.

Maggie tends to cry a lot, reminiscing about events and things from their past that Mike can’t remember doing. She offers to help him with any and everything, from hand feeding him his lunch and putting his socks on, to walking him to and from the toilet to do his business, all of which Mike hastily, but politely declines.

Went cracks a lot of jokes and tries to keep the conversation light, away from heavier topics. He mentions getting Mike the guitar lessons that Richie’s apparently been whining about for the last few months once he’s out of the hospital. Both of his parents seem surprised but pleased when Mike tentatively asks about pianos instead. When they re-enter the room later, Maggie cheerfully declares that Mrs Denbrough has offered to teach him for free, whenever he’s feeling up to it.

He’s still confused and doesn’t know them properly, but they’re good people and he doesn’t want to hurt them anymore than this whole situation already has.

The mystery of him not needing glasses anymore baffles Dr Ford and the nurses. They run several tests on him for his vision and all come back perfect, as though he had never had any sight difficulties in the first place. 

Dr Ford only puzzles over it for a day before dismissing it and declaring it as minor miracle.

“Hospitals are for mending things and your vision’s no longer broken, son.”

Richie had apparently always complained about how blind he was anyway, blaming Went’s shoddy genetics.

Went jests that perhaps the cause of his eyes’ astonishing recovery is that he must have summoned a demon and traded all his memories for perfect vision. Maggie whacked her husband lightly upside the head for that, but breaks into a small smile nonetheless.

His favourite moments of the day are always the time he gets to spend with Eddie.

They would sit curled up, side by side in the hospital bed, talking about everything and nothing. Usually safe subjects, like comic books, which have apparently stayed the same in Mike’s memories as they are normally. Mike also, shyly at first, starts explaining the rules and lore behind Dungeons and Dragons to Eddie. They have a lengthy conversation about getting the Losers on board to play through a campaign together.

Mike likes it. His interaction and friendship with Eddie is easy and simple; a welcome break from all the other shit going on.

Eddie’s been very careful with him, but not in a way that’s patronising or condescending at all. Dr Ford wants everyone to call him Richie so that he can get used to it again, but Eddie must sense his discomfort with that, because he sticks firmly to fondly calling him ‘asshole’, ‘dickhead’ or ‘Trashmouth’. Mike appreciates it. There must be some kind of inside joke with these nicknames that he’s perhaps not getting, but they’re only nicknames. They don’t quite hold the gravity that Richie or Mike have.

Mike himself doesn’t know which he should be trying to answer to. The name he remembers but who doesn’t exist? Or the name of the person he’s forgotten and may never fully remember?

Mentally, he’ll stick with Mike for now because it feels easier, but he’s totally on board with Eddie’s refusal to acknowledge either aloud.

One time, Eddie slipped and called him ‘babe’ by accident, but he continued rapid fire with whatever he had been saying like it had never happened. The only evidence that the word had even been said was the blush colouring both their cheeks for the next half hour.

The other Losers hadn’t been to visit him yet, but Eddie said that was mainly because he was adamantly monopolising the ‘one Loser at a time’ rule that Maggie and Went had been enforcing on Mike’s visitor access. They didn’t want to turn the hospital into a complete madhouse after all, nor did she want Richie to get over-excited and exhaust himself.

Maggie gave Mike a pointed look at that, but he hadn’t understood why.

There had been numerous instances like that over the past few days. Notable pauses in conversations, where eyes would flicker towards Mike, as if waiting for him to interject, say or do something, before his parents shared a pained look and continued what they were doing.

Eddie did it too sometimes, but differently. He didn’t seem to have any expectations of Mike, he would just cut himself off mid-sentence for a moment and smile softly to himself during the brief silence, like his brain was filling the gap with what should’ve been there, before he continued his train of thought.

It was starting to drive Mike crazy.

Crazi _er_?

Whatever.

“What was Richie like?”

Eddie looked up from the X-men comic they’d been reading, a slightly startled look on his face.

“Huh?” he replied, eloquently.

They’d been reading quietly together for the last forty-five minutes, though Mike had just been staring blankly at the pages as Eddie turned them, his head resting lazily on his friend’s shoulder.

Mike huffed in frustration to hide his sudden embarrassment for interrupting the warm silence they’d been sharing.

“I just- What was he like? What was I like? Before. I just want to know.”

He could see in his periphery that Eddie was staring at him, but Mike refused to meet his eye, focusing down instead on an illustration of Storm destroying some goon with lightening on the comic book page between them.

“I don’t know if that’s a good idea, Trashmouth. Dr Ford said we need to wait and let the memories come back to you on their own.”

Mike scowled at Storm.

“Well Dr Ford can fuck off! People have been telling me little things here and there anyway! I just want to know the bigger picture, what his personality was like? I know he- I, dammit! I – I know I like music and comic books, that my parents love me but keep expecting me to… I don’t know what, break into song and dance? Do something annoying? Spit at them? 

“I don’t know what they want from me,…- what anyone wants from me! Everything’s all weird and wrong and confusing.”

Mike sniffed angrily at himself but wouldn’t let himself start crying again. He’d started out his speech mad, but it had fizzled out into the sad, bitter confusion that had started to cloak him whenever he was left alone in his hospital room.

“I don’t know what about me is real and what about me I made up. I just want to know… so everything can go back to normal. Whatever that was.”

He felt fingers thread through his own and another hand on his jaw, tilting his head up from where it had been slumped down against the sleeve of Eddie’s polo. He probably had creases and patterns marked into his cheek and he flushed at the stern, honest concern in Eddie’s gaze when the boy directed Mike to look at him.

That expression felt so familiar and earnest.

It reminded him of El and his heart panged sharply in his chest.

He missed her suddenly, missed the way she could be serious and strong when she needed to be. A calming, compassionate presence, determined to help him, be it with demogorgons or just a tough day at school.

Looking at Eddie now, he could see how and why his mind might have created her.

Most of her physical appearance came from Eddie. Their general height and stature were the same, as were their soft, brown eyes, the way their hair curled slightly, their firm, comforting hands laced with his and the fierce kindness they shared.

They had the same essence too. They made Mike feel the same way, something big and all-encompassing that he couldn’t put into words.

He felt the pain in his chest recede as quickly as it had started.

He couldn’t miss someone who was already beside him.

Eddie’s thumb stroked gently up along his jaw in a comforting gesture. He hummed to himself and nodded absentmindedly, eyes still locked with Mike’s.

“Yeah, okay. I’ll tell you about him.”

Mike let out a breath he hadn’t realised he’d been holding in. He squeezed Eddie’s hand that linked with his own on his thigh.

The hand cupping his face lowered and Eddie shuffled, ducking his head down so he could rest on Mike’s shoulder this time around. His breath flared out across Mike’s neck and collarbones, flickering at the edge of his hospital gown. Mike shivered, but he wasn’t cold. 

“Well, first off, he’s the most obnoxious, self-obsessed asshole I’ve ever met.”

There was a smile in Eddie’s tone and after a beat, they both broke out into giggles. The tension that had been attempting to settle on them dispersed.

Mike turned his head and nuzzled his nose into Eddie’s hair a little, hiding his grin in the boy’s curls just because he could.

Eddie sighed contently before continuing.

“He’s funny. Always joking around and making terribly inappropriate comments on everything. He speaks his mind, no matter how depraved the content is. If it seems immature or like something that most normal people would think is too far, Richie will say it without hesitation. He’s care-free about that sort of thing.

“Sometimes it can come across as kinda insulting or gross or dark but that’s just how he is. He never really means any harm by it. He’s just trying to make people laugh and has a ridiculous and dirty sense of humour. Richie doesn’t mind making a spectacle of himself if it means cheering us all up.”

Eddie paused a moment, thoughtfully.

“That’s probably what your parents stop for in conversations. They’re so used to Richie cracking some awful joke or pun that they didn’t realise they actually liked them until they stopped coming after your accident.”

Mike lets that sink in and he hums lowly in agreement.

That makes sense, he guesses.

And it’s something he can work towards. Maybe.

By the sound of it, Mike Wheeler has a better filter than Richie does, though not by much. Mike tends to be more cutting when he speaks his mind, his words driven by annoyance as opposed to cheering people up, and he usually tries not to be crude or improper.

He’s been uncomfortable this past week around all these new (old?) people, so hasn’t voiced his usual sarcastic comments very often. He could try to lighten up and speak his mind more, in a more positive way, like Richie seems to. Besides, it sounds kind of fun and freeing to say whatever he wants, to make jokes about anything and everything he pleases.

Eddie continues.

“Richie loves doing Voices. He’s been trying to perfect certain accents and characters he’s developed too, and he’ll slip them into conversation now and then.

“He gives everyone ridiculous nicknames. And we all pretend to hate them, but I think we secretly love them. I can’t say for sure about the other Losers, but mine started to grow on me over the years, and I really don’t mind them so much anymore- Crap! If Richie’s memories come back to you, he’s gonna be so fucking smug that I told you that, jeez.”

This sets them both off giggling again and the bed sways slightly from their laughter.

Once he’s calmed down a little, Mike speaks up.

“What nicknames specifically?”

Eddie’s cheek is hot where it presses into Mike’s skin by his neck, like he’s blushing.

“He calls me Eds. And Eddie Spaghetti, as well as variations on that, like Edward Spaghedward or Eds Spagheds, or something else silly. His nicknames for the other Losers are just as bad, usually just puns on their names or appearances. I won’t tell you theirs, because I think Stan would skin me alive if I set you off on them again.”

Mike grinned.

“I’ll just have to think of new ones then. Get creative.”

Eddie snorted.

“So long as you wait until I’m there before you test them out. I wanna be there to see Stan’s face.”

“Deal!”

There’s a pause for a moment before Eddie chuckles to himself, squeezing Mike’s hand again.

“Oh, Richie also has this ongoing joke where he pretends that he’s dating my mother.”

“What the fuck?”

“Yeah. I don’t think I’ve had a single conversation with him since we were like ten without him making some kind of joke about sleeping with my mom. He’s so weird! Like we’d meet up to bike to school together, and instead of greeting me like a normal human being, he’ll say ‘I hope your mom isn’t too tired after all that sex we had last night, sorry I couldn’t stay to see you at breakfast, sport.’”

The impression Eddie does of Richie doesn’t sound like him at all, but that’s mainly due to the dodgy British accent he’s layered over the top, so Mike assumes it’s based on one of Richie’s voices. The whole thing is so outlandish, yet somehow believable, that Mike can’t help but let out another snort of laughter.

“Somehow he manages to be really smart too. Get’s straight A’s without having to study, the dickhead. He helps me with English sometimes. I’ve always been good at maths and science because of my mom’s health meltdowns and prescription details, but English, not so much. Richie helps all the Losers with that kind of academic stuff. He’s rubbish at practical things though. He just doesn’t have the patience to deal with any of that.”

Eddie hums, thinking of more he can say.

He doesn’t say anything for a while, but when he does Mike can feel the conversation shift like it’s a physical thing. Colder.

“Errm… he told me once that he’s scared of clowns, but… I don’t know if he was being fully honest at the time. We’re all scared of clowns now, but, back then… I think he was scared of a lot, but he never told us- never told me, what any of it was…”

The hairs at the back of Mike’s neck prickled.

“Clowns? What do you mean? Why are the Losers scared of clowns?”

Eddie stiffened and then shuddered. He was quiet, like he was trapped in a memory or something.

Mike pressed closer to the boy’s side in concern and a sudden, overwhelming need to be nearer to him.

“We went through some shit a couple years back. I won’t go into it now, but it wasn’t great… Traumatic. It involved a clown, … demonic bastard… I’m actually kind of glad that you don’t remember it right now. If one good thing’s come from your whole amnesia situation, this is it. You don’t deserve to have to deal with those dark memories on top of all your physical recovery.”

Mike felt sick with unease.

So something had happened to Richie, Eddie and their friends. Something awful and scarring.

And that word Eddie used.

_Demonic._

It sounded too specific, too sure. Supernatural.

All Mike could think of was the Demogorgon and the Mind Flayer.

He might not be able to remember whoever this clown guy was, but whatever terrors Richie had experienced appear to have carried over into Mike’s memories to haunt him.

He’d been hoping that, if Mike’s whole life really was just a figment of his post-head-injury imagination, the Upside Down and it’s monsters were purely fictional. They could have been based off of dumb horror movies or comics he’d seen, instead of grounded in actual events in Richie’s life.

But apparently not. 

Apparently, Richie had trauma written through him like a stick of rock.

Mike thought about mentioning it to Eddie. Telling him about the Upside Down, the Mind Flayer.

But what if he was wrong? Eddie really hadn’t told him all that much about the clown. There could be a perfectly reasonable, non-supernatural explanation for whatever shit happened to the Losers.

Mike was jumping to conclusions trying to compare the two, he’d just seem crazy if he told Eddie now.

Instead, he adjusted their position, wrapping his arms around Eddie and pulling him into his chest, keeping his face buried in his friend’s hair.

“Thank you for sharing all that with me. It means a lot.”

Eddie’s nose dragged along his collarbone, as he nodded into Mike.

They stayed like that for ages, letting themselves be comforted by each other’s presence.


End file.
